


Careful How You Proceed

by cookiesandcreambrownies



Series: In Bocca Al Lupo [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angelica is a badass, Angst, But not really magic, Dwarf Giant!Herc, Elf!Alex, Eliza is still a cinnamon roll, Fae!Jefferson, Gen, It Gets Worse, Kinda, Mer!Laurens, Non-binary character, Selkie!Eliza, Siren!Maria, So no happy ending just yet, Sprite!Peggy, They have powers, They want to kill King George, Vampire!Angelica, Warlock!Washington, Were-panther!Laf, Werewolf!King George, Werewolf!Lee, Werewolf!Seabury, ends on a cliffhanger, it's laf, so is Laf, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25963621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiesandcreambrownies/pseuds/cookiesandcreambrownies
Summary: As the Interspecial Intelligence Unit, the Hamilsquad (along with Angelica, Eliza, Peggy, Jefferson, and Maria) are specialized spies and assassins who just happen to also be supernatural creatures.Led by Angelica, who always takes point on assignments, the IIU has yet to hear about a person they couldn't kill, a secret they couldn't learn, or a mission they couldn't complete.Laf, the second in command, is an all-around prodigy. In a pinch, they can fill in for anyone and everyone on the team.Alex is third in command and the techie. Well, technically he's a hacker, but is there a difference?Laurens is a field agent, the unofficial fourth in command, and firecracker extraordinaire. His counterpart in the field, Maria, is his exact opposite - cool-headed but emotionless when it comes to kills.Herc is a tailor by trade, though he really just sews disguises for the team, especially Jefferson, the one undercover agent the IIU has.Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy aren't siblings, though they might as well be. Eliza, the medic, and Peggy, the interrogator, are as close to Angelica as anyone could ever be.Together, they'll tackle the problem known as King George and his werewolf pack.
Series: In Bocca Al Lupo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885426
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	1. The Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins.

Alex was doing his rounds on Angelica’s orders when he crossed paths with Jefferson. The road was dark enough that to anyone who didn't know better, nothing was there.  
But Alex definitely knew better.  
  
He nodded coolly at the fae before turning his eyes to his route again without checking to see if Jefferson acknowledged him.  
  
“Hamilton.” Jefferson’s voice, sour with distaste, pierced the air.  
  
Alex turned around slowly. “What?” His voice was low enough that mortals couldn’t hear him, but he was sure Jefferson’s ears could catch it just fine.  
  
The fae’s face was stony, not betraying any emotion. “Tell your boss that she’s got a package from Desaira coming in today.”  
  
“Desaira?”  
  
“Yes, Desaira, the hag, is something wrong with your hearing?”  
  
“No. I’ll pass the message along.” Without any further pleasantries, Alex stalked away. Jefferson’s words tumbled through his mind over and over again as part of his brain went on autopilot, checking the markers and scenting the air by memory.  
  
Desaira.  
  
Well.  
  
Alex sighed. He should probably get the route done a little faster than usual, go tell Ange. That would be the smart thing to do.  
  
And while Alex was many things, dumb wasn’t one of them.  
  
He lengthened his stride, for all intents and purposes looking like a city businessman out on an emergency late-night trip. Herc’s disguises were very good.  
  
The route ended up having no problems, as usual, though Alex noted a stretch that needed extra patrols, in his opinion - he made a note to ask Laf about it. It was a barren length of road, warehouses on either side, but there were the scents of several different supernaturals overlapping the area.  
  
The scents were all old, though, so there was nothing he could do at the moment. He slipped into the old apartment complex that served as their headquarters. It was dilapidated on the outside, something no mortal would look at twice, but the inside was a different story altogether.  
  
Ange had renovated the inside so much that it looked futuristic. The only exceptions were the personal living areas, where the team stayed when they weren’t out on an assignment. Inside, it was sleek and shiny, a modern, minimalistic look, all steel, no iron. Computers took up an entire room. Another held the neutralizers - scent, power, mortality, memory, and more. The entire basement was an armory.  
  
It was the perfect place to run a technically illegal organization.  
  
Alex took out his phone and speed-dialed Laf on the secure line.  
  
“ _C’est qui?_ ” a voice asked on the other end.  
  
“ _Alex,_ ” Alex replied.  
  
“ _Alexandre? Qu’est-ce que tu veux?_ ”  
  
Alex rolled his eyes. “ _Bonjour, Laf. J’ai une question._ ”  
  
“ _C’est ça?_ ”  
  
“ _Tu connais la rue avec des entrepôts?_ ”  
  
“ _Oui, ce qui s’est passé?_ ”  
  
“ _Il y a beaucoup des parfums surnaturels là. Je pense que nous devons mettre une autre patrouille sur cette rue._ ”  
  
“ _Je vais m’en occuper._ ”  
  
“ _Merci._ ”  
  
“ _Pas de problème, mon petit lion._ ”  
  
Alex ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He stomped up the stairs, past the second floor - damn, Ange should really get an elevator or something - and went straight to the third.  
“Come in,” Ange called from her office. Of course she'd heard Alex; he wasn't exactly being subtle. Although he could be subtle if he needed to.  
  
He opened the door to her office and quickly stepped inside, closing the door behind him.  
  
Ange looked up from behind her desk. “Report,” she said sharply.  
  
“We’re good, for the most part,” Alex said crisply. “Nothing really out of the ordinary on the route except for a section that had way too many supernatural scents for such a stretch of road; I got Laf to put an extra patrol on it. Jefferson passed on a message.”  
  
The vampire assessed him with cool eyes. “What?”  
  
“Desaira.”  
  
She looked pensive. “Okay. Are you sure?”  
  
Alex nodded, forgoing words for the moment.  
  
“Alright. Dismissed, I’ll contact you if I need you. Get some rest, Alex,” she said, one side of her mouth quirking up. Alex scoffed. They both knew he wasn’t going to sleep. Elves, as a general rule, didn’t need sleep. And neither did vamps.  
  
Well, actually, no one on the team needed to sleep, per se, but sometimes they did anyway.  
  
Alex headed out the door, closing it as he stepped into the hallway. He went up the stairs again and got off on the sixth floor’s landing into his room, kitchen, and basically everything else he needed. It was nice to have a floor to yourself sometimes, he mused.  
  
No one bothered you, really.  
  
Instead of taking Ange’s advice, he opened up his work laptop and clicked open a file.  
  
The light from the screen was the only bright spot in the entire apartment. It washed out Alex’s face as he read the dossier.  
  
_Samuel Seabury. Werewolf, the King’s pack. Approximately two centuries old._  
  
There was a picture of the were.  
  
Alex scrolled down to the bottom, where the most recent additions were. Before he could properly read it, though, his phone buzzed.  
  
He sighed. What now? A look at his phone saw that it was Ange.  
  
Oh, this had better be important.  
  
_Get down to sb_  
_And hurry tf up_  
  
And… that was definitely Ange.  
  
Reluctantly, Alex got up from the sofa and went back downstairs. The front and back doors were both open, a steady stream of supernaturals from the field coming back in. The only people not out were him, Ange, and Pegs.  
  
They met together in the most secure room of the entire complex - the sub-basement. Also known as the war room.  
  
Ange was already sitting at the head of the table, a place she rightly deserved and would give up only to Washington. Laf was on her right, Alex on her left. The rest of them got to sit wherever they felt like sitting.  
  
Alex sat down in the hard, highbacked chair.  
  
With a touch of her finger on the pad embedded in the table, Ange closed the door. Harsh white lights turned on.  
  
“Check,” Ange said simply, pointing a finger at the table in general.  
  
It was protocol every time they had a meeting in here. Alex put his index finger on the fingerprint sensor as it scanned down.  
  
_Access granted - Alexander, third-in-command, hacker._  
  
A panel on the table slid open. Alex stared at the blinking red light in the center.  
  
_Access granted - Alexander, third-in-command, hacker._  
  
That was usually where it stopped, but Alex knew what was coming. This called for blood.  
  
A tiny needle stuck out next to the retinal scanner, and he pricked his thumb on it just enough for there to be a drop of blood.  
  
_Access granted - Alexander, third-in-command, hacker._  
  
A green light blinked in front of him. When no red lights came on, he relaxed. No shapeshifters or possessed people in the room.  
  
“Alright,” Ange said sharply. “This is an actual emergency meeting, if you haven’t figured that out already. The Desaira protocol is a go.”  
  
There were gasps around the table. And a few cheers as well.  
  
“Jefferson, since you called it, why don’t you tell us what you figured out.”  
  
“So today,” started Jefferson, “I was undercover at the club and Seabury was there. Suspicious, right? So I snooped around and found out that the king’s gonna send him and Lee out on a mission. The details of the assignment itself were secret, though I think Alex could hack into their phones and get it out if it was there. Right. So, after that, I excused myself from the bar discreetly and accidentally on purpose bumped into Alex on his patrol. Sorry about the front, Alex, but undercover stuff, I’m sure you understand,” he added, grimacing a little.  
  
Alex nodded.  
  
Jefferson continued. “ _But_ , the point is, both of them could be out of action for quite a while without causing a stir. So I called Desaira. End of story.”  
  
Ange tapped her nails on the table, thinking. “Alex, you can hack into the king’s systems, right?” He rolled his eyes but nodded nonetheless. “Good. Get as many details of whatever it is that the king wants Seabury and Lee to do without being detected.”  
  
“Now. Do we know where the king’s current hideout is.”  
  
Silence.  
  
Ange sighed. “Apparently not. Alex, add that to your list as well.”  
  
He groaned. “Fine, fine. I’ll have it done in a day or two.” Hopefully, he added silently.  
  
“I want eyes on that club at all times, Jefferson. If anyone from the king’s pack shows their face, notify me immediately. I’ll give you a list of everyone known to be in his pack.”  
  
She continued on. “Herc, disguises for Jefferson. Laurens or Maria, one of you always needs to be free in case Jefferson finds someone. Pegs, interrogations if they do bring someone in. Eliza, you just do what you’ve always done. I’ll be coordinating as always. Laf, fill in. That’s all. Dismissed.”  
  
Alex saluted her with a touch of sarcasm and headed up again. Laf fell in next to him.  
  
“ _Mon ami, tu peux venir à mon étage?_ ” they asked.  
  
“ _D’accord._ ”  
  
He went with Laf to the fifth floor and flopped onto their couch. It was, as everything in Laf’s rooms was, rather ostentatious.  
  
“ _Pourquoi tu m’as traîné ici? N’importe quelle raison particulière?_ ” he asked.  
  
“ _Je ne veux pas simplement profiter de ta compagnie?_ ”  
  
“ _Non._ ”  
  
“ _Connard._ ”  
  
Laf flipped him off without looking at him.  
  
Alex ignored them. Instead, he took out his laptop and started working on hacking the king’s technology.  
  
He supposed it would have been easier had he been in the computer room. But Laf obviously had a reason for bringing him over, so he waited for Laf to finally talk, fingers flying over the keyboard as the silence stretched.  
  
For their part, Laf wasn’t paying attention to Alex at all, it seemed. They kept rummaging through their desk drawers, trying to find something.  
  
“Alex.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Look.” Laf held out a piece of paper. That was what they were trying to find?  
  
Alex took the paper and scanned it over.  
  
It read,  
  
_I look forward to seeing you soon._  
  
No signature.  
  
He inhaled sharply and looked up into Laf’s worried eyes.  
  
“ _Quand tu trouves ça?_ ” he asked, slipping easily into French.  
  
“ _Ce matin. C'était dans ma chambre._ ”  
  
“ _C’est de qui?_ ”  
  
“ _Je ne sais pas! Mais je crois que c’est du roi._ ”  
  
“ _Vraiment? Puis la situation est très mauvaise._ ”  
  
“ _Oui. Devrions-nous dire à Ange?_ ”  
  
“ _Bien sûr! Elle va être très en colère si nous ne lui disons pas._ ”  
  
“ _Tu as raison. Mais pas maintenant. Nous lui dirons demain matin._ ”  
  
“ _C’est bien._ ”  
  
The were-panther let out a small huff of relief, a small smile playing on their mouth. “I suppose I shall have to - how you say - let you go now.”  
  
“Laf, you know English at least as well as I do, if not better. We just talk in French for convenience. Stop pretending otherwise.”  
  
“But where is the fun in that?”  
  
“You don’t have a French accent either, y’know.”  
  
“Screw you, Alex.” Alex just laughed.  
  
“But yeah, I think it’s best if I head down now. Easier to hack there. Bye, Laf.” Laf waved a hand as Alex headed down the stairs - why wasn’t there an elevator - and into his domain.  
  
The computer room.  
  
It was a feat of technology and engineering. There were monitors covering every available inch of room, a console in the center. It was there that he sat down in the rolling office chair.  
  
The keys’ clacking was the only noise in the room as Alex lost himself in the code that was the encryption for the king’s pack’s phones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French translations:   
> Who is this?   
> Alex.   
> Alexander? What do you want?   
> Hi, Laf. I have a question.   
> What is it?   
> You know the road with the warehouses.   
> Yes, what happened?   
> There are a lot of supernatural scents there. I think we should put another patrol on that street.   
> I'm on it.   
> Thanks.   
> No problem, my little lion. 
> 
> My friend, can you come to my floor?   
> Okay.   
> Why did you drag me here? Any particular reason?   
> I can't just want to enjoy your company?   
> No.   
> Asshole. 
> 
> When did you find this?   
> This morning. It was in my bedroom.   
> Who's it from?   
> I don't know! But I believe it's from the king.   
> Really? Then the situation's very bad.   
> Yeah. Should we tell Ange?   
> Of course! She's going to be very mad if we don't tell her.   
> You're right. But not now. We'll tell her tomorrow morning.   
> That's fine.


	2. The Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new development... how will it go?

Alex hadn’t come out from the computer room for over a day now, and Laurens was starting to get worried. He knew, rationally, that as supernaturals, they were fine going days or even weeks without food or water or sleep.  
  
So why was he so damn worried?  
  
The only sign that Alex was still alive was the occasional “Yes!” or groan from the room. Though again, there was no way he could be dead this quick unless someone murdered him.  
  
What the hell was wrong with him?  
  
He shook his head and cleared all the thoughts from his mind. Jefferson had alerted him and Maria a few minutes earlier that Seabury had dropped by again and texted him the address.  
  
A long breath, and Laurens was walking through the swinging doors.  
  
Inside, it was dark, loud, and packed. Not the best combo for finding someone, especially given how sensitive his ears were. At least no one would see if he dragged Seabury out the back. Hopefully.  
  
He milled around with the crowd, careful to avoid the center of the dance floor, where he wouldn’t be able to see a thing.  
  
Another buzz on his phone.  
  
_Third booth, second floor, on the right._  
  
As soon as he saw Jefferson’s text, he went straight in the other direction. He needed to throw anyone who might have bugged their phones off the trail, especially since the firewalls were down, courtesy of Alex.  
  
There was a bathroom off to the side, and Laurens went in, slipping into the servicing hallways through a side door inside the bathroom.  
  
From there, he followed his memory. A right, two lefts, straight through the fork… a few more turns and he ended up right behind the private booth that Jefferson said Seabury was in.  
  
And Laurens trusted Jefferson.  
  
The door opened without a sound as he stepped out gingerly into the alcohol-scented room. Seabury’s back was to him.  
  
That was a mistake.  
  
Silently even to supernatural ears, he touched the self-contained live wire - a source of electricity - in his pocket and tapped Seabury, stunning him with an electric charge. He grimaced. Being a mer, his body was a great conductor of electricity, but it didn't really hurt him. Did feel weird as hell, though.  
  
Seabury slumped forward. Laurens couldn't tell if he was faking or not, so he stayed exactly where he was and texted Jefferson.  
  
_Apprehended  
Come over, spy mode_  
  
Jefferson didn't respond, but Laurens knew he was on his way. Sure enough, the door opened a few minutes later, heralded by Jefferson's familiar footsteps.  
  
“Seabury! There you are,” he exclaimed with a wide smile. “Lee was looking for you. Said the king had a message.” He affected a troubled look as he leaned down. “Seabury? Hey, did you pass out from drinking too much? Whew, how much did you drink?” He raised his head and caught Laurens' eyes. _He's out of it for sure,_ he seemed to say. _What next?_  
  
With Jefferson's reassurance, he moved forward and snapped neutralizing handcuffs on Seabury's unresisting wrists.  
  
He grunted. “Jefferson, help me get this asshole back to headquarters. Actually, do you have a tracker scrambler to put on him?”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, here,” Jefferson said, handing him the small, unassuming device. Laurens stuck it to Seabury's hand. It buzzed, signaling it was active.  
  
Laurens didn't exactly have the strength that, say, oh, Ange or Laf or Alex or Jefferson or Herc had, but he was still a fair bit stronger than the average mortal. Only problem was, the werewolf was also quite a bit heavier than the average mortal.  
  
He flipped Seabury over his shoulder with Jefferson's help and disappeared back into the servicing hallways and through a back door out onto the street. It wasn't a long run back, so he sucked it up and headed to headquarters.  
  
The familiar tingle of his powers disappearing as he entered the building greeted him. He lugged the unconscious body to the cells.  
  
It was Pegs' problem now.  
  
He wanted nothing more than to go up to his rooms and relax, but Jefferson had probably sent a text to Ange by now and she would want a report. So instead of going up to the seventh floor, he trooped up to the third.  
  
“I’m back,” he groaned even before he got through the door. Ange sent him a disparaging look as she responded, “Report.”  
  
“Seabury is in custody. I'm going to assume Jefferson told you the rest and head up to shower the stink off. Bye.”  
  
Ange waved him away, nails flashing in the light, but before he was more than a few feet down the hallway, her voice floated in the air. “Get back down here right after. There's something we need to discuss.”  
  
Laurens groaned mentally.  
  
He changed after a quick shower and met Ange in her office again.  
  
“So.” He arched an eyebrow, waiting.  
  
Ange mirrored his expression. “Laurens, don't laugh, but what I'm about to say is absolutely confidential. Do I have your word that you won’t tell anyone outside the team?”  
  
He wanted to laugh. “Of course.”  
  
“Good. Now. Laf came over with a piece of paper yesterday morning. Here,” she added, handing Laurens a scrap of paper.  
  
He sucked in a breath as he read it.  
  
“A threat, then,” he said, proud of his even voice. “Most likely from the king.”  
  
Ange nodded. “Yes, that's what Laf said. But the troubling thing is that they found it in their room.”  
  
“No way.”  
  
“They swore it was the truth. And besides… they gave me permission to check.”  
  
“Did you?”  
  
“Of course. Do you take me for an idiot, John Laurens?”  
  
“No, of course not. Sorry, Ange. Continue.”  
  
“So now, on top of having the king to worry about, there's a possible security breach as well.”  
  
“Have you told Alex?”  
  
“Laf says he already knows. Said he was the first one they told.”  
  
“Alright then. I assume you're telling me this because you want to check me and then ask me to improve the security?”  
  
“Yes, if you check out. May I?”  
  
Laurens nodded and closed his eyes. Less than a second later, he felt Ange's cool fingers on his temples.  
  
A blink, and he opened his eyes again. “So. Am I clear?” he asked.  
  
Ange nodded.  
  
“Alright, we have to approach this properly. Number one. Who knows this is headquarters besides the team?”  
  
“Washington and Martha.”  
  
“No one else?”  
  
“Well, that I know of.”  
  
“Okay. Then anyone who could have had… motivation to plant that note from within the team.” He spent a few seconds mulling it over before suddenly realizing the answer.  
  
“Jefferson.”  
  
Ange was already nodding. “That makes sense. He needs to act the part, or else the king's gonna get suspicious. It should just be a bluff, then, so that’s taken care of. Thanks, Laurens.”  
  
He smiled a little. “But of course. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go relax.”  
  
“Go ahead. You're off the field for another few days. I'll inform Maria.” She waved him away again with a perfectly manicured hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, there is little to no romance in this story. Take that how you will.


	3. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Peggy! ... gets her own chapter.

"Pegs, come down. We have a prisoner." Ange’s voice crackled through the speaker that sat flush against the wall.  
Peggy jumped up with excitement. Did that mean she'd get to do an interrogation?  
She fairly hopped down the stairs in anticipation after remembering to grab her set of knives. Okay, so the cells had their selection, but Peggy had always liked her own set much better - they felt more _right_.  
Besides, they grew and shrank to fit with her size.  
“Remind me to thank Alex for them,” she said aloud.  
A disembodied voice made her jump. “Done.” She looked around. What the hell? Last time she checked, there wasn’t an AI system in the house. Yet. Maybe Ange had installed it without telling her. It wouldn’t be the first time the vampire had played a prank on her.  
“Oh,” she said as the answer came to her. “Why the hell was my phone on?” She turned it off and shoved it back in her pocket.  
When she got to Ange’s office, she could see that Ange was somewhat regretting calling her. To be fair, her manic energy was a little more than most people could handle.  
“Peggy, _please for the love of God stop moving_ ,” she snapped.  
Peggy stopped.  
“Okay. Let’s review. Laurens caught Seabury early this morning. He’s currently in cell block A3. I want you to-”  
“-get as much information as I can out of him, yeah, yeah, I know. See if I can figure out the location of the pack’s safe house or whatever. _I know_ ,” Peggy interrupted her, rolling her eyes. “I’m not an amateur, Ange.”  
Ange pursed her lips as if she thought otherwise. “Right. Is your anti-neutralizer on?” At Peggy’s nod, she relaxed a little. “You’re free to go. Don’t kill him just yet, but other than that, feel free to do whatever. Report back afterwards.”  
Peggy was barely listening. “Uh-huh. I’ll be back in half an hour, tops.”  
She ran out the door and down to the cells before Ange could respond, although her hearing caught the sigh that came after.  
The cells were dark, damp, and generally not a nice place to be. Peggy’s footsteps echoed on the flagstones - easier to clean than anything else, didn’t stain, and hard to walk on without rolling an ankle, especially if you were trying to escape.  
So, great for keeping prisoners in and interrogating said prisoners.  
With torture if need be.  
She stopped in front of a nondescript door, reinforced titanium, that looked exactly like the ones to either side, except for the writing.  
_A3_.  
With a deep breath, she turned into air and slipped through the miniscule crack on the floor, traveling through passages only she could enter, and ended up inside Seabury’s cell. After maneuvering herself so that she was behind the werewolf, she turned back into her human form.  
“Seabury,” she greeted coolly to the werewolf’s back.  
The change in his posture was instantaneous. He spun around, both legs still chained to the ground. “How the hell did you get in here?”  
She allowed herself a small grin. “Ah-ah, that would be telling, wouldn’t it?”  
His throat bobbed. “What do you want?”  
“Isn’t it obvious?” Peggy asked, cocking her head to one side. “I want information.”  
“I won’t give it to you.”  
“I wasn’t expecting you to. It’s much more fun that way.”  
She turned on the video camera clipped innocuously to the collar of her shirt. It was easier than having to repeat, word for word, what he’d said (or didn’t say), and Ange’s mind-reading skills only worked for her. She had no doubts that the rest of the team would want a retelling as well.  
“Now,” she said, leaning forward, “first question. Where do you and the rest of your pack live?”  
"That's the last piece of information I'd ever give you."  
"Oh, this should be _fun_." She lit the tip of her pointer finger on fire. The small, flickering flame cast dancing shadows over Seabury's face as she moved it closer and closer to his neck.  
He swallowed, eyes following the movement.  
Without warning, Peggy touched her finger to the hollow just above his collarbone. The room filled with the scent of burning flesh. She ignored it.  
The werewolf screamed in pain as Peggy watched impassively. She waited a few moments before removing the fire.  
"That's going to be the least of your injuries if you don't start talking," she warned. To demonstrate her point, she took a knife out and ran it from the corner of his eye to his mouth, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake.  
"Perhaps I should carve your eye out," Peggy mused. "Or both eyes. You don't need your eyes to talk, after all."  
Seabury remained silent.  
Peggy pouted. "Oh, really? Fine. Let's see how sweetly you can sing with the proper motivation."  
She took out a block of steel and reshaped it into a crude club. It whistled through the air as she brought it down on Seabury's hip.  
The bone shattered with a crunch and he collapsed on the floor. Peggy advanced, twirling her makeshift club menacingly.  
“I’m not telling you anything,” he spat.  
She stayed silent and shattered his femur.  
It took three more broken bones, one eye carved out, and countless burns before the werewolf finally broke. She was about to annihilate his other arm when he cracked.  
"No, no more!" cried Seabury as he tried to scramble away, only to gasp in pain as his broken - well, more like smashed - bones prevented that. "I'll tell you everything."  
She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"  
His frantic nod had her lowering the steel club. "Number one. Where does the pack live?"  
"It's… it's an old warehouse. It looks empty from the outside because we put up holograms. There are scent neutralizers in there too, but the king hasn't figured out how to block the scents on the street yet."  
"Address."  
"439 Lambardt Avenue, Industrial Quarters."  
Peggy considered the information. When she spoke again, her tone was clipped. "Next. Who else is in the pack, besides the king and you?"  
"Howe, Lee, Andre, Cornwallis, Clinton, Gage," he listed automatically before trailing off.  
"Who else?"  
"No one." His eyes betrayed his fear.  
Peggy narrowed her eyes. "You know, somehow I don't feel like you're being honest. And I don't like being lied to." The club was arcing down and slamming into his arm before he could respond. The resulting crack echoed in the steel room.  
"Fine, fine! Arbuthnot and Montgomery, that's it, I swear!"  
"Okay. Am I right in assuming the king is the alpha?"  
Seabury nodded mutely.  
"Who's the beta?"  
"Clinton."  
"Gamma?"  
"Gage."  
And so it went. The interrogation ended a short while later after Peggy established that Seabury held the lowest rank in the pack. Still, there was some information gained.  
Some rather important information at that.  
Peggy left the cells covered in blood and rushed up the stairs. "Ange! Hurry up, I need to shower and change, yes I give you permission!" she yelled. She burst into Ange's office a few seconds after that. The vampire crossed the room in two quick strides and put her fingers to Peggy's head.  
A brief moment of amnesia later, she was rushing up to her floor and into the bathroom. Blood felt so… disgusting when it dried. Besides, it would flake on the ground and she did not need that.  
She was barely out of the shower and into fresh clothes, tossing the dirty ones in the laundry chute, when her phone buzzed. Loudly. Many times.  
She'd bet her place on the team that it was her teammates wanting to know how it went.  
Opening up her phone, she sent a quick text to the group chat.  
_Come down to the rec room  
I have a video_  
She snatched her video camera from the table and dashed down the stairs. When she got to the rec room, it was already filled.  
Wordlessly, she handed the camera to Alex, who was the only one she trusted with technology, before flopping onto one of the couches. He slipped a small card out of the thing and into the laptop linked to the giant screen. The screen blinked on as he selected the most recent video and hit play.  
It showed Seabury's face right before she started questioning him. She leaned back, content to let the others analyze the video. She'd already seen it firsthand.  
“Oh, yeah, Alex,” she said as she remembered something.  
“Hm?”  
“Thanks for the knives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, reviews/comments and kudos are appreciated!


	4. The Abduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun-dun... Lafayette's one of my favorite characters, and the fact that I get to post his chapter today is my birthday present to me! (In case you couldn't tell, it's my birthday.)

Laf was very satisfied with Peggy's work. They hummed as they watched the video, proud of their protégé's progress since graduating into a full-fledged interrogator, spy, and assassin. Yes, wonderful work, really.   
Taught by the _very_ best.   
And Laf meant the very best. Ange was many things, but subtle wasn't one of them. Neither was patient. Ange was a great assassin, there was no doubt about it - the best, quite possibly, in the world.   
Assassin and interrogator were two very different roles, though. But Laf prided themself on being able to play any role the situation called for.   
They'd had to play interrogator many times before. It was a messy job, guaranteed to make your clothes stained with blood.   
They were quite sure that their hair had never recovered from being coated in blood so many times and never would.   
Halfway through the viewing, Angelica showed up. “He’s dead,” she had declared. No one bothered to ask for clarification.   
As the video wound down, they yawned. They felt… restless. The panther under their skin was itching to rise to the surface.  
It wanted to hunt.   
They went up to Ange's office and walked through the door without preamble. "Do you have any assignments?" they asked flatly. She looked up at their tone, knowing the only time they were so irritable was when the panther resurfaced, and grimaced. "It's that time, huh?"  
Oh, shit.   
It was the new moon. No wonder their inner panther was so restless.   
"Yeah," they responded after a pause.   
She barked out a laugh. "You forgot, didn't you?"   
Another beat. "Yeah," they admitted eventually. "Still. Any assignments?"   
She was already rifling through one of the multiple drawers in her desk. "Here," she said, handing them a sheaf of papers. They took a quick glance and put them back down. After all, their memory was impeccable.   
"You want me to go after Lee." It wasn't a question.   
"No," she corrected. "I want you to run surveillance on Lee. No confrontation unless it's absolutely necessary."   
A terse nod and they were out the door. They ran out the building, taking care to shut the front door (Ange had given everyone hell at least once for leaving it open), and shifted in a dark alley only a few feet away.   
The transformation was painless after so many years shifting. They slunk off, the black of their coat blending in perfectly with the shadows.   
Their feet padded silently on the concrete as the city lights flashed by in a blur. Within seconds, they had arrived at a bar Lee was notorious for frequenting.   
They pulled back their lips in a grin. _A mistake, to be so predictable._   
The report had said Lee would arrive exactly five past eight. Sure enough, the werewolf strolled through the front door right on time. Perfect.   
Laf followed by jumping on the roof. They paced next to a vent that had a very good view of the floor and waited.   
And waited.   
And waited.   
Lee didn't do anything even remotely interesting. There were no covert conversations, no signs of aggression.   
Laf was bored out of their mind.   
They'd been on the roof for over three hours when disaster struck.   
At first, they hadn't even noticed when Eliza walked into the bar. But then Lee whirled around from where he was nursing a drink (a glass of whiskey) and looked directly at them.   
Shit. The wind had shifted and Laf hadn't even noticed. Now Lee knew they were here.   
The werewolf looked frantically around, for the exit, Laf had assumed.   
Then he grabbed Eliza.   
Fuck.   
Laf snarled and shifted back, one hand already taking out the gun from its holster in one smooth motion. Lee smirked at them.   
The _audacity_.   
But they had to admit, Lee was smart. He used Eliza as a shield and slowly backed away from Laf's range.   
Why wasn't Eliza fighting back?   
Laf had the answer to their question a moment later when they spotted the glint of light on a long, wicked knife pressed to Eliza's back.   
Still, they couldn't shoot at Lee and risk hitting Eliza. They had to let the werewolf go. Damn it.   
A feral snarl erupted from somewhere deep in their chest. They shifted back and jumped off the building, running top speed for headquarters. Even though they didn't relish being the one to give the news to Ange, they recognized the need to do it fast.   
The longer Eliza was in the king's clutches, the more pain they would give her. And as the medic, Eliza was not a fighter. Sure, by mortal standards she would still be great, but against other supernaturals she didn't stand a chance.   
They shifted back in the same alley before letting themself in. "Code Blanc," they bellowed to the building in general. "Authorization: A328LS." Steel shutters rolled down over the windows as the team ran down the stairs to the front room. Laf knew that even though they couldn’t see all of it, the entire place was being shut down.   
“Laf? What the fuck?” asked Maria as the rest of the team made their way down.   
They glared at her. “I need to talk to Ange,” they managed to bite out.   
It took all of two seconds for the vampire to be at Maria’s side. “What is it?” Her voice was filled with concern.   
Laf snarled, “Lee.” Start with the actual problem first. That was good.   
“And what about Lee?”   
Oh, great. And for the very horrible news. They shifted a little, getting into a defensive position in case Ange attacked them, ignoring the raised eyebrow at the motion. “He took Eliza. He smelled me and used Eliza as a shield to get out of the bar.” The vampire’s eyes narrowed dangerously.   
Before they could register what was happening, they had been thrown to the floor. Their breath was knocked out of their lungs as their head made contact with the steel surface so hard they saw stars.   
Ange crouched above them, one hand firmly around their throat. They choked in a breath as it tightened. Fuck, how did she move so fast?   
“Eliza has been captured. Because you were dumb enough to be sloppy. Do you understand the magnitude of the mistake you’ve made?” she asked rhetorically in a quiet, razor-sharp voice.   
Ah, fuck. When Ange reverted to old-fashioned, complicated words, she was either angry, worried, nervous, tense, or a combination thereof - never good.   
Their vision was blacking out around the edges as they nodded. All their instincts were yelling at them to fight back, to get away from the threat, but they forced them down. Fighting against Ange was a death sentence.   
Right as they were about to fall unconscious, Ange removed her hand. Gasping, they sat up and sucked in a breath.   
Ow.   
Their head was in absolute agony (and they weren’t exaggerating, Ange was _strong_ ). “Fuck, I deserved that,” they croaked.   
“You absolutely did,” Ange told them, completely unsympathetic.   
The rest of the team stood by silently, watching and waiting. But Laf could sense the question lying underneath - _What do we do now?_   
Ange sighed. “I’ll be in my office, trying to figure out how to get Eliza out. Luckily, Pegs got their location literally three hours ago - so we have that. No one goes out without my permission, got it?” She looked around until everyone nodded.   
“Good. Code Blanc lifted. Authorization: Z893OH.” Without another word, she strode up the stairs, leaving Laf on the ground and everyone else standing around.   
They winced, standing up as the shutters retracted and, presumably, the hidden booby traps disappeared. “Let’s go,” they told the team.   
Everyone dispersed quickly and efficiently, no one lingering behind. Laf ran up to their floor, locked the door to the staircase, and flopped on the bed, groaning.   
They were in so much trouble. Not that it wasn’t warranted. But they refused to think about that kind of stuff right then, so they closed their eyes and went to sleep.   
When they opened their eyes again, sunlight was streaming through the windows and there was someone at the front door. As the closest to the first floor, they went out to get it. Technically, Ange was closest to the first floor, but she never got the door.   
Eh. She was entitled to anything she wanted.   
They pulled the door open. “What do you…” they trailed off as he saw who it was. “Eliza?”   
The selkie nodded. “We need to get to Ange’s office,” she said quietly. “I’ll answer your questions later.” Laf assumed she’d seen the confusion in their eyes.   
They paused and nodded. “Do we need everyone else?”   
“Depends what we find in there.” And now Laf was worried.   
They led the way up to the third floor. The door was slightly ajar, a worrying sign to begin with. Ange never left the door open by accident.   
They weren’t sure what they were expecting when they walked through the threshold, but it wasn’t the sight that greeted them. “What…” they breathed.   
The room was a mess and Ange was nowhere to be seen. True, she could have been on her floor, but there was no way she would have left the room in such disarray.   
Laf finally asked the question on their mind. “What happened, Eliza?”   
She didn’t answer. Laf glanced her way, confirming she was there, but she just stared at the room in silence. “Eliza?”   
“Get the team down,” she ordered. “I’m only saying this once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's my first ever cliffhanger (by my standards, at least). You're welcome.


	5. The Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooh... we finally figure out what happened to Angelica!

Ange had given Eliza a memory. It was something Eliza hadn’t known she could do. But regardless, it was important, and she wasn’t about to keep that to herself.  
Laf had texted the team. All there was to do now was wait.  
Alex arrived first, followed by Laurens, then Herc, and the rest of the team. “Eliza?” someone asked.  
She nodded.  
They quieted down relatively quickly without any questions.  
“Eliza knows some important stuff,” Laf told them. “Eliza?” She gave each of them a measured look before opening her mouth.  
“Hey, guys,” came Ange’s voice.  
Laurens yelled, “What the fuck?” Someone shushed him.  
“I’m not sure if this will work, but if you’re hearing this, it worked. Eliza, thank you for figuring it out. Everyone else, this is Ange, speaking from a memory I’ve given Eliza. Think of it like a recording. Now. Listen closely, because this is, as far as I can tell, a self-destructing memory. At least I hope so. There’s some other stuff at the end, but right now, this is where I am…”  
~  
Angelica drummed her fingers against her thigh as she waited for the door to open. Why were they being so slow?  
Eventually, the door creaked open. “Angelica,” the werewolf behind the door said in surprise.  
“Yes,” she agreed. “That’s me. Any other stupid observations you want to make?”  
“Why are you here?”  
She arched one perfectly done eyebrow in mock surprise. “Would you look at that? There’s intelligence in there somewhere!”  
“Why are you here.” She sighed. Werewolves. Couldn’t take a joke.  
“I am under the impression that you have one of mine,” she said, going straight to the point. “A selkie named Eliza.”  
“And what if we do?”  
“Then I wish to trade myself in her place.”  
A blink. “Stay there.” The door shut as the werewolf presumably ran off to find the king.  
Indeed, the king was the next person to open the door. “Ah, my dear Angelica. I’ve been informed you’re willing to take… what was her name… Eliza’s place?”  
She nodded. No reason to give more information than they asked for.  
“Very well. That’s an exchange I’ll accept. Step inside, why don’t you?”  
Angelica scoffed. “I’m not going in until Eliza’s outside the building.” That was a basic negotiation strategy - she didn’t know why people kept underestimating her.  
The king looked at her for a few seconds, considering. Finally, he decided,“Fine. Howe, go bring the selkie out, will you? As a show of good faith.” The werewolf who had answered the door ran off. Angelica tracked his movements.  
Eliza was at the door in seconds, Howe’s hands around her wrists. She looked mostly fine, just a few hairs out of place and a few smudges on her clothes. “Eliza! Are you okay?” she asked anyway, just in case.  
“Ange! I’m fine, they didn’t do anything but keep me in a cell.”  
“Alright.” She still had doubts.  
The king’s voice cut through the air. “As touching as this reunion is, I’m afraid I’ll be taking Angelica now. Howe, release Eliza, please.” The werewolf relinquished his hold on Eliza’s wrists. She ran towards the door, meeting Angelica at the threshold.  
They hugged briefly, just long enough for Angelica to feel that Eliza had slipped her something, and for Angelica to slip her something in return, before Eliza was saying, “Good luck. I love you,” and slipping out the door.  
It closed with an ominous _thud_ as Howe slid the deadbolt in place.  
As she faced the two werewolves before her, armed with nothing but her inherent abilities and the object Eliza gave her, the only thought slipping through her mind was, _I hope they find my message._  
~  
Ange’s voice continued to come from Eliza’s throat. “And I am, presumably, in the cells of the werewolves’ headquarters right now, unless I’m dead. You must consider that as a possibility if you’re trying to rescue me. Don’t be dumb if you’re trying to rescue me.  
“Laf, you’re off the hook for now. I need you to lead the team, and you know how to lead the team, so don’t disappoint.  
“Alex, you’re promoted to second in command. Laurens, you’re third. Also, boys, don’t be dumb. I’m looking at you, Laurens, especially, because you have a preternatural talent for attracting stupid situations and trouble. If you’re stupid and get yourself killed, I will literally pull you back from the dead and beat your ass.  
“If my suspicions are correct, I will not be able to rescue myself. Check with Eliza to verify that assumption. If it’s true, I would appreciate some help.  
“Oh, and one last thing. I can only give you a week. _Il tempo massimo che posso darvi è due settimane._ ” With that, Ange stopped talking.  
Eliza blinked in confusion at a crowd of stunned faces. “What happened?”  
Alex answered. “Ange sent a message through you.”  
“And?”  
“And what?”  
Eliza sighed. “Did you record it?”  
Alex looked shocked for a moment that he hadn’t considered it before looking ashamed. “No,” he admitted.  
“I did,” Peggy piped up.  
Relief coursed through her. “Oh my god, Pegs, you are the only one with any common sense in this entire group. Thank you.”  
Peggy giggled. “No problem. I know. Here.” She handed Eliza the camera.  
Eliza clicked through the videos until she found the most recent and pressed play.  
“ _Hey guys,_ ” Ange’s voice said. She watched until it ended and handed the camera back to Peggy.  
She frowned. That was kind of concerning. “Well, this isn’t good at all,” she stated. “Ange is in the cells and she’s telling us she can’t get out - oh yeah, her suspicions are absolutely correct, by the way. Did anyone catch what she said at the end?”  
“No,” said Laf. “Let’s watch it again.”  
They did, huddled in Ange’s office around a small camera. Eliza suppressed a laugh. _I wonder what people would think if they saw us._  
It wasn’t long before they figured that it was in Italian. The only problem was, only Ange knew Italian well enough that she could understand it in spoken form. And Ange wasn’t here right now.  
“Eliza, pause the video,” Laf ordered. She reacted automatically, finger pressing down on the pause. “We can’t exactly tell what she’s saying, so the best thing to do would be to get it through a translation system, but I don’t trust any online ones.”  
They sighed. “The most foolproof way would be to find someone fluent in Italian, and if Ange was trying to make it really secure, the proper regional dialect as well, _that we trust_ , and have them translate it.”  
“Which,” Herc summed up, “is kinda impossible.”  
Well, they weren’t wrong. “Yeah, well, is there anyone like that?” Eliza asked.  
Laf shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t know. I doubt it, but we could look through our contacts and check.”  
“Or,” Maria interrupted, “we could ask Washington.”  
“Or that.”  
They decided to call Washington a little later. Well, they decided Laf would call Washington a little later, since they had been the warlock’s protégé a long time ago.  
Eliza summed it up pretty well. “Laf calls Washington, then we figure out what to do from there.”  
Laf went to the computer room to call their mentor.  
They dialed the number and waited.  
The ring tone was really annoying.  
Washington wasn’t picking up. Well, maybe -  
“Hello?” Oh, never mind.  
“Sir,” Laf started, “It’s Lafayette.”  
“Is it now? What’s their full name?”  
Laf sighed. They hated their full name. “Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. And you’re the only one who knows that and it better stay that way.” Washington didn’t deign to acknowledge the threat.  
“Hey, Laf. What’s up?”  
“Do you know anyone who can speak fluent Italian, in the exact regional dialect that Ange uses, and who we can trust?”  
“So,” Washington began, “ancient, Italian, trustworthy.”  
“Uh-huh.”  
Laf could almost hear Washington pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay. So, one. Ange was right in that you guys would be smart enough to call me. Good on you. Two. She’s in trouble. You know that, yes?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Three.” He continued as though Laf hadn’t said anything. “Luckily for you, I speak Ange’s Italian. I assume you have a recording?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Send it to me. I’ll translate it, get back to you, and hopefully it helps.”  
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”  
“Get Ange out of trouble. She’s the best I’ve ever trained and it would be a goddamn shame if she died.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
Washington ended the call. Laf pocketed their phone, opened the door, and walked back up to the office.  
“I called Washington,” they called up.  
Herc asked, “And?”  
“He can translate it; send it to him - _with encryption,_ ” they added as an afterthought.  
There was some mumbling as Laf climbed up the stairs, which they assumed was Alex scoffing at his supposed incompetence.  
“Okay, so that’s done,” Alex said as soon as he walked in. “Washington already saw the email and responded that he was doing the translation. The only thing left to do is sit and wait.”  
Laf sighed. Waiting was, in his opinion, both the most tedious and the most dangerous activity on the planet. Tedious because it involved next to no motion; dangerous because the monotony was a great way to make someone subconsciously lower their guard. Like… they cringed. Like what had happened to them on the roof.  
After several more minutes, another email pinged on the computer. Washington.  
_Here’s your translation: The most time I can give you is two weeks._  
Laf absorbed the words for a moment. “So we’ve got a little more time than we thought. We have to figure out how to rescue her.”  
The team stayed in the office for a little longer before deciding that tackling the problem would be easier after a break.  
“Get some rest or whatever,” Laf ordered. “See you down in the sub-basement at seven tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, comments and kudos very much appreciated!


	6. The Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, this is mostly a filler chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update - this week was busy, even by my (admittedly hectic) schedule.  
> Also, shoutout to [alinal](/users/alinal/) for commenting - I _will_ be gifting you a fic in the future, mark my words. Unless you don't want one, in which case, feel free to tell me.

"Darling," Angelica drawled to the lone werewolf in front of her cell - Gage, the gamma of the pack - "do your worst. There's nothing you can do that I haven't already experienced."  
He raised an eyebrow. "I highly doubt that."  
Angelica shifted as best as she could, confined to the shaft of sunlight by chains encircling her wrists and ankles. Her mouth was a slash of white in the brightness. "Do you know the myth of the Dearg Due? It's from Irish folklore, I believe."  
Gage was bemused by the non sequitur. "I am familiar with it, yes," he admitted, intrigued, though he wouldn't say so.  
She grinned wider. "Did you know," she said slowly, savoring every word, "that I am the inspiration? That the legend was based on me?"  
"I must admit I did not."  
"I'm not sure when it originated," she continued. "After all, I don't remember visiting Ireland until several centuries - or was it millennia? - after my turning." Her voice was still nonchalant, her posture casual.  
Gage swallowed as the implications sank in.  
She spelled it out for him. "I am older than civilization, boy. Perhaps I might even be the original vampire. I was a bit wild and reckless in my youth, I'm afraid." Angelica gave him a very pointed look.  
He murmured, "Perhaps I shall come back tomorrow."  
The smile - no, it was bared teeth, there was nothing friendly about it- turned mocking. "I am looking forward to it."  
Her vicious laughter followed him all the way up the stairs.  
As soon as he was out of both her line of sight and her range of hearing, he relaxed his shoulders. The vampire - Angelica, he reminded himself - was terrifying. Worse, even, than the king, he thought, repressing a shudder at the idea.  
Unfortunately, there was no denying the fact that he would face the king over the vampire any day. Which, of course, was exactly what he had to do next.  
“Your Majesty?” he called out as he neared the king’s personal study.  
“Come in.”  
Gage opened the imposing oak door and stepped into the immaculate room. The king was engaged in writing a… correspondence of some sort. He shook his head. What the king did was none of his concern.  
The king looked up. “What is it?”  
“Your Majesty, I’ve finished the interrogation for today.”  
“Ah. The vampire?”  
Gage merely nodded.  
“And?”  
“Well, sir, she’s not cracking. I can say that she’ll last a week at least, but further than that requires close observation. Still, I’m putting it at less than two weeks, especially with the sunlight, which is just strong enough to weaken her.”  
“Very good. Keep at it until she cracks. Don’t give her any blood, use artificial sunlight if you have to, and torture isn’t out of the question, either.” Gage stiffened. He knew all this already. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done this several times already.  
“Yes, sir,” he said, biting his tongue.  
“Dismissed.” The king turned back to his writing.  
The other werewolf let himself out quietly. He went back down the stairs and into the common room, where most of the others - Lee and Seabury were out on the king’s orders - in the pack were eating.  
“Hey.”  
Murmurs greeted him. As the second highest ranked in the room (Clinton, the beta, was there as well), he was afforded a certain level of respect.  
He sat down heavily on Clinton’s right, reaching for a bowl of stew. “So how’d it go?” Clinton wanted to know.  
Gage shivered. “She’s terrifying, frankly. But I gave the king an estimate of less than two weeks, and I’m sticking to it.”  
“I have no doubt you’ll manage, my friend.” 

Angelica was done with the werewolves. So, absolutely, completely, _done_. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Gage of the Dearg Due, nor had she been kidding about the time frame.  
She had not, however, told anyone - not even her own team - about the actual knowledge she held in regards to the origins of her species. The only person who knew was Washington.  
And if Gage came down and tried to pry it out of her-  
Well. As they said - over her cold, dead body.  
Technically, she was undead and therefore could never die. That was fine by her - what she knew wasn’t something to broadcast to the entire world.  
“The king,” she sneered, “can fuck off and die. He’d be doing everyone a favor, anyway.” This was addressed to Gage, who had just asked about her team’s identities.  
His eyes narrowed. “Not the right answer.”  
“But the correct one nonetheless.”  
He shook his head. “Why can’t you cooperate? It would make everything easier - you could have blood again, and get out of the wretched sunlight…”  
She laughed in his face. What did he know about her? Nothing, that’s what.  
“You don’t understand exactly how dumb your statement was,” she informed him.  
“Oh?” Gage raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”  
Angelica made a show of pretending to think about it. “Yeah, no. Fuck off.”  
“I don’t think I will.”  
She growled. “You’ve never seen me at my true strength, and pray to whatever gods you believe in that you never will. Now, and I can’t believe you still haven’t listened, leave. Before my patience runs out and I tear you to pieces.”  
He left.  
It went on for days. Every single evening, he’d come in and ask her about different things - the location of their headquarters, the members on her team, their patrol routes. She never said anything.  
Once, she’d even spat in his face.  
It became a routine at some point. One that she did not particularly enjoy, but she had to act as though she was powerless to stop it for the time being.  
She wished her team would hurry up already. 

There were whispers, after a week and a half, of a big event the king was hosting. Of a party, where all the werewolves’ allies would be in attendance and there would be a big… something.  
The whispers said that it was Ange’s execution that was scheduled for the main event.  
Ange had no doubt in her mind that that was what would happen. She had told her team two weeks; after that, even if she didn’t give them the information they wanted, they would kill her. It was standard procedure.  
But although it might kill her, she wasn’t going to say a word. There was no way she would betray her team’s trust like that.  
She would hold her head up high and face her death without batting an eye, she decided. The way she had always imagined going.  
Four days. That’s all that was left.


	7. The Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before the climax (and the end)!

Headquarters was a mess. It was an undeniable truth that Jefferson, as much as he wanted to deny it, had to admit, even to himself. They hadn’t come up with a plan until over a week in, and that in and of itself was worrying enough.   
Still, it was organized chaos, so he supposed it could have been worse.   
And Laf was more than capable.   
In fact, the only reason anyone was doing anything was because Laf had made them. Jefferson wasn’t under any delusions that the team could survive under Alex. Or, he thought with a shudder, even worse, Laurens.   
At the moment, he was on his way to Faerie to hopefully make a deal with the rulers of both the Seelie and the Unseelie Courts. What kind of deal, Laf had left up to him, but they had made it clear that it should be beneficial for all parties involved, except for the werewolves.   
Jefferson wasn’t going to ask for aid - it was going to be on the team to rescue Ange. That kind of favor wasn’t something to be traded away lightly, especially for a Fae as old as he was.   
Instead, he was thinking of asking for the Fae to take the werewolves off their hands after they’d rescued Ange. It was much less of a deal and would hopefully provide entertainment value as well.   
And if it didn’t go well, then at least he still had another card up his sleeve.   
He entered Faerie through an obscure portal almost no one knew about, though he wouldn’t put it past the rulers to post a guard there. Sure enough, he encountered a guard not long after he passed through the portal.   
Jefferson scented the air. Seelie.   
That was okay by him.   
“Identify yourself!” the guard ordered.   
“Jefferson,” he replied, careful to keep his full name to himself. “I seek an audience with the King and Queen.”   
“For what purpose?”   
“Personal ones.”   
“State the purpose for your audience.”   
Jefferson’s eyes narrowed, glittering in the weak sunlight. “Like I said. Personal. Now _let me pass_.”   
“Not until-” Faster than even Fae eyes could see, Jefferson had the guard up in the air by the neck.   
“You do not know what you try to deal with, boy. Don’t come after me.” With that, he dropped the guard, who gasped as he took in giant breaths.   
Jefferson stepped around him and walked into Faerie proper. His true home, though he hadn’t visited in quite a while.   
He traveled for what felt like weeks but was really only a few hours - he’d have to remember not too linger to long in Faerie; they only had two and a half days before everything had to be in place - in the mortal world according to his inner clock before he found the castle that was home to the Seelie King and Queen.   
The gates opened of their own accord, admitting him.   
A single glance had the drawbridge lowering, though the guard at the door insisted on taking his name before allowing him entrance.   
“Jefferson,” he said once again, exasperated. “Do let their Majesties know that I am here.” 

The Seelie Queen was holding court when a messenger ran up. “Your Majesty,” they said, bowing, “a strange Fae is here requesting an audience.”   
“And what, pray tell, is this Fae’s name?”   
“Jefferson, your Majesty.”   
The Queen’s face turned pale. “Send him in to the best waiting room we have ready. Is he asking for a joint audience?”   
“Yes.”   
“Grant it. Grant every request he makes, short of treason. Inform him that both the King and I will be with him shortly.”   
The courier bowed again. “As you command, your Majesty.” They ran out.   
She turned back to her court. “Ladies, I’m afraid I must cut this short, delightful as it has been. Thank you for coming.”   
It was a courtesy; they all knew that the ladies must attend to the Queen at her command.   
They filed out, allowing the Queen privacy to sigh and rearrange her hair, accessories, and clothes. All of which, she had no doubt, would be scrutinized by Jefferson. She also had no doubt that the King was doing the same.   
Eventually, she exited the room, meeting up with the King in the hallway. “My love,” she murmured, “this is… not ideal.”   
He shook his head. “No, it is not. But it’s Jefferson; what can we do but acquiesce to the likes of him?”   
She sighed again. “You are, as always, correct. Come, let us go meet with him.” 

Jefferson had been waiting for less than five minutes, Faerie time, when the two monarchs swept into the room. He stood up at their entrance. “Your Majesties,” he said, sketching a bow.   
The displeasure was evident on their faces at such a callous greeting, but they held their tongues.   
“Jefferson. It has been too long.” The Queen was as composed as ever, a sculpture carved out of marble.   
“Likewise. Shall we sit?” The question would have been overly forward for anyone but him.   
With a nod, the monarchs sat down on the couch opposite his.   
“Now,” Jefferson started, steepling his fingers, “you must be wondering why I’m here.”   
“Yes,” the King ground out.   
“It’s simple. I would like to ask a favor.” This sparked their interest. Favors were big things in Faerie.   
“What favor?”   
“Nothing large, I assure you. But I am expecting to bring an entire pack of werewolves into custody very soon and would like for you, or the Unseelie King, or both, to keep them out of our hair for as long as Faerie exists.”   
The Queen’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the Unseelie. “Have you met with our counterpart yet?”   
“No,” Jefferson said easily. “I will be going straight after.”   
The King nodded. “And what will be in it for us?”   
“Entertainment, I should think. You will have free reign over the werewolves.”   
The rulers thought it over for a few minutes.   
“Very well,” the Queen told Jefferson. “We will take as many werewolves as you require us to for our entertainment. In return, you owe us something.”   
“What? Keep in mind that servitude is not an option.”   
“Will you return our names?”   
Jefferson scoffed. “No.”   
She sighed. “I had a feeling that might have been the case.” She thought about it again. “What if… you could broker a peace treaty between our two Courts?”   
The King nodded in approval.   
Jefferson considered it. It had always been one of his goals, uniting the land he grew up in, but they didn’t need to know that. “Very well,” he said at last. “I will agree. Werewolves for an attempt at a peace treaty?”   
“Agreed. Werewolves for an attempt at a peace treaty.”   
Jefferson took his leave soon after. He strode back down the road, taking a left where before he had taken a right, and was soon in Unseelie territory.   
“Halt! Who goes there?”   
“Jefferson, a neutral Fae.”   
The guard materialized from thin air, cuffing Jefferson with iron manacles before he could react. “Neutral, huh? Impossible. We’ll see what the King wants to do with you.” He tugged on the chains.   
Jefferson shrugged. Following the guard wouldn’t do much harm, he supposed, and besides, giving away his advantage wouldn’t do.   
“If I may ask,” he said, “How are you not affected by iron?”   
The guard grunted. “Special potion.” Fair enough.   
They reached the Unseelie court a while later. “A prisoner for the King,” Jefferson’s guard announced.   
“The King will see you now,” one of the sentries replied. Jefferson was led down several long hallways before they stopped at a set of imposing double doors.   
Several Fae threw them open with a _boom_. Holding his head up high, Jefferson walked across the room and stopped before the King, whose half-lidded eyes showed nothing but boredom.   
A small smirk played across Jefferson’s lips.   
The King studied him for several seconds before recognition flashed in his eyes. _There we go._ “Jefferson?”   
“The one and only,” he assured the King.   
“Release him immediately,” the King ordered frantically. “Do you not know who this is? He is an Old Fae!” The guard’s jaw dropped.   
Jefferson tsked. “No need, actually.” Carelessly, he ripped the shackles apart and threw them to the ground. “Easy enough. Now, _Your Majesty_ , shall we talk?” 

In the end, the deal was made easily enough, and the Unseelie King acquiesced to an attempt at a peace treaty with the Seelie court. Jefferson was shown to an official entrance and exit to Faerie and escorted back into the mortal world. Checking his internal clock, he realized that it had been a day and a half, and there was only a day until the rescue attempt they’d be staging - to get Ange back, and to kill the werewolves, hopefully.   
He ended up only an hour or so away at top speed from headquarters. A small gift from the King, he would guess.   
“I’m back,” he announced as he ran through the doors and immediately stopped. Annoying power suppressors.   
Laf came downstairs, looking frazzled. “ _Comment ça s’est passé?_ ”   
“ _Très bien, en fait._ ”   
“ _Ah, oui? Bon. Repose-toi._ ”   
“ _D’accord, merci._ ” Jefferson headed up to his floor to shower, eat, and, well, not sleep _per se_ , but at the very least rest a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the formatting may or may not be a bit wonky... please ignore it if it is, please ignore this if it isn't.


	8. The Operation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're at the end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually the chapter I'm proudest of in this entire work - enjoy!

Maria was nearly vibrating with excitement. They were finally going into the field to rescue Ange. A long-overdue operation, in her opinion.  
“Okay. Everyone knows what’s happening?” Laf was, as usual, being a mother hen. She sighed through her nose.  
“Yes,” she responded in a monotone.  
“Alex, check the comms again.”  
Alex shrugged. “Alright. Testing, can everyone hear me?”  
A muttered chorus of confirmation sounded in her ear.  
“Laf, is this really necessary?” she asked as they had each person in the team recite their role and positions.  
They turned to her, eyes blazing. “If we do _anything_ wrong, Ange is as good as dead,” they bit out. “So yes, I think this is absolutely necessary.”  
Maria held up her hands. “Just asking.”  
Laf pinched the bridge of their nose. “Sorry. That was… what is the word… uncalled for. I think we’re all a little stressed, non?”  
She nodded, accepting the apology.  
Laf straightened up again. “Alright. Herc has your clothes - remember that there’s not a lot of places where you can stash weapons, so be scrupulous about what you bring.” They gestured for the dwarf giant to pass the clothes out.  
Maria took her outfit - a floor length ball gown. Which was the point - Jefferson had somehow snagged them invitations to a party that the werewolves were throwing, and a black-tie party at that. She blew out a breath as she scrutinized the dress. Formal wear wasn’t her preferred attire, but it would have to do.  
Privately, she wondered how many hidden pockets Herc had sewn in.  
She went up to her floor to change, retrieving a sword and a set of daggers that she sheathed at her waist, the layers of tulle hiding the blades. A bottle of poison went into her cardigan’s pocket hidden as a flower. Two pistols and a rifle went into specially designed pockets tucked away behind more tulle. A necklace that could double as a garrote. Earrings and rings that were miniature Molotov cocktails. A comb in her hair that had detachable teeth, which were darts in their own right.  
When she went downstairs again, in five inch stilettos that could double as throwing knives no less, everyone looked like proper ladies and gentlemen as opposed to the assassins they actually were.  
“Did I miss any pockets I could put stuff in?” she asked Herc. He pointed to her back.  
Maria looked at him in confusion. The back of the dress was literally nonexistent except for two diagonal straps that connected to the waistline. “What?”  
“The straps are for tasers,” he explained. “Or nunchucks. Anything that can fit in there, actually.” Maria considered that for a moment before deciding to put a nunchuck for her dominant hand and taser for her nondominant hand.  
“Thanks.” Herc nodded.  
Once everyone had stocked up as best as they could, they headed out. The cool night air brushed against her skin as they piled into the limo waiting for them.  
Once they were inside, Jefferson quietly said, “They might be planning on executing Ange at the party.”  
_What?_  
“When did you know this?” she asked instead.  
“Two hours ago.”  
The car fell silent.  
“Well, then,” Laf said decisively, “all the more reason not to mess up.”  
It wasn’t long before they arrived. Laf dismissed the driver, saying that they could make their own way back.  
They entered the party easily enough, the invitations turning out to be legitimate and their fake IDs good enough that the guard couldn’t tell the difference.  
“Can everyone hear me?” Alex’s voice crackled through the comms.  
“Yeah,” she said under her breath without missing a beat.  
“Good. We don’t have that much time because I just hacked into their system and found out that yes, they plan on executing Ange, and they’re going to do it _before_ the dinner.”  
“And?”  
“The dinner is in exactly forty-five minutes.”  
“Fuck,” someone breathed.  
“Uh-huh. Exactly. So that means we have virtually no time to prep. Our best bet for rescuing is right as they bring her out, so that’s in thirty-five minutes - the king wants to make a speech beforehand.”  
Thirty-five minutes to get in position without anyone noticing. Not impossible, but definitely not easy either. Alex continued.  
“Jefferson, distraction on my count in thirty-three minutes.” Out of the corner of her eye, Maria saw Jefferson nod discreetly and respond. “Got it.”  
She mingled with the other guests, always keeping at least one member of the team within her field of vision. The clock ticked down.  
At T minus five minutes, Alex went over the comms again, although Maria could see that he was nodding along to something a werewolf was saying. “Laf, position.”  
“Check.”  
Twenty seconds later, he said, “Maria, position.” She excused herself from the conversation and glided over to the predetermined spot.  
“Check,” she confirmed.  
Alex continued the countdown at twenty second intervals. “Eliza, position.”  
“Check.”  
“Herc, position.”  
“Check.”  
“Pegs, position.”  
“Check.”  
“Laurens, position.”  
“Check.”  
“Final countdown. Jefferson, on my mark.” The comms fell silent. Fifteen seconds ticked away. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Mark.”  
There was a clamor as Jefferson started an argument with one of the guards. He purposely threw his arms out to the side and knocked a waiter’s tray, filled with glasses of champagne, to the floor.  
“One point five minutes,” Alex said, unfazed.  
Maria subtly put one hand on a pistol.  
“One minute.” The king was still in the front of the room, looking concerned but not overly so at the mess Jefferson was making. The guards, however, were much more focused on the Fae than the king, and therefore Ange when she would be brought out.  
“Point five minutes. Prepare for extraction.” Footsteps sounded from outside the door behind the king. Maria sidled up as close as she dared. The door opened.  
“On my mark. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Mark.”  
Maria exploded.  
She fired off several shots in quick succession, throwing the pistol to the ground and crushing it with her heel while she was already firing the other. Shots rang out from around the room.  
The front was suddenly filled with smoke - Eliza or Pegs, there to get Ange, she realized. A few muted thuds told her that they'd succeeded.  
A click as her second pistol emptied. Maria cursed and crushed it, dodging a blow from a werewolf. She threw one of her rings at them. It blew up in their face.  
Drawing two of her daggers, she sliced her way through the werewolf pack towards the king, mimicking the motions of the rest of the team.  
Lee went down under her blades. Good. The bastard deserved it.  
Arnold, one of their old informants who had defected a while back, rushed her. Attaching her two daggers to make a butterfly knife, she unlatched her necklace.  
His head was bouncing to the floor before he could blink.  
As the smoke cleared, she stood with the team in a circle around the king, his pack either dead or incapacitated. His eyes flicked from one person to the next.  
“Now, I’m sure we can - we can sort this out without violence,” he pleaded weakly, running his tongue over his lips. Alex snorted.  
“On my mark,” he said again, not bothering with subtlety. “Three. Two. One. Mark.”  
A shimmering sword made of light appeared in his hand as he swung it towards the king. Several shots rang out in the air.  
Maria hung back. As she’d expected, the king dodged the bullets and knocked the sword from Alex’s hand. Useless - he could make another one.  
Then the king made a break for it as they regrouped. Acting on instinct, she chased after him, hearing the pounding footsteps behind her that told her everyone else was doing the same.  
There was a scream.  
Maria paid it no attention, focused as she was on hunting the king down. She threw the garrote away and pulled off her rings, never faltering in her run, even though heels were… not ideal for a high-speed chase.  
One. The first ring forced the king to veer off to the right.  
Two. The second one made him go left.  
Three, four. Two more on either side.  
Five. Maria threw this one in a high arc. It blew up right in front of him. He stumbled but kept running.  
The stumble was the opening she needed. She pulled out the rifle, still unused, and sighted down the barrel. As the king straightened back up, not looking back, she pulled the trigger.  
Time slowed down.  
Maria could see in exquisite detail the bullet traveling through the air in a clear line towards the king. She saw him turn around at the sound of the gunshot and pinpointed the exact moment he saw the bullet. He tried to dodge the bullet - too late.  
So Maria saw, in perfect, glorious technicolor, the bullet ripping through his skull.  
The thud as he hit the floor reverberated through the air.  
Time sped up.  
The party guests scattered as she approached the corpse, heels clicking on the tile, rifle carelessly held in her hand. With her supernatural strength, she tore his head off, leaving blood all over the floor, though she was careful not to get it on her dress.  
A smile curled on her lips.  
Although she wasn’t quite as fast as some other supernatural species, she could still be back at headquarters in next to no time. Discarding the rifle after twisting the barrel into a knot, she started the run back. 

When she finally entered the building, Laf was waiting for her. “Where were you?” they asked, their voice shaking with… something.  
In response, she held out the king’s head, the bullet wound clearly visible.  
Laf stared. “No way.”  
Maria smirked. “Yup.”  
“Good job,” they said. For a moment, it looked like they were happy. But then their face fell again.  
“What is it?”  
They swallowed. “You might want to see for yourself.” Laf pointed down one of the less often used hallways - to the medical center.  
“Who is it?”  
“Alex.”  
Maria ran down the hallway, throwing her heels off to the side. Laf ran after her.  
They burst into the medical center at the same time. She looked around wildly before she finally found what she was looking for.  
Alex was in one of the beds, surrounded by the rest of the team. Laurens looked up at the noise. “Oh, hey, Maria,” he said dully. “Where were you?”  
“I killed the king,” she said. It wasn’t how she’d thought the announcement would go. The victory was hollow, now that Alex was… wounded? Dead?  
“What’s the situation?” she asked.  
Eliza looked at her. “Bad.” She didn’t elaborate.  
Maria looked at the readings. There was a bunch of medical jargon she didn’t understand, but she zeroed in on the diagnosis.  
_Bullet wound to the chest._  
She sucked in a breath. Those were almost always fatal, and as she read down - _straight to the heart, two broken ribs, one punctured and collapsed lung_ \- Alex’s condition looked worse and worse.  
The heart monitor beeped, a piercing reminder of the situation.  
Ange was helping Eliza with something, but at the sound, she turned and looked at the source. Her face paled beyond its usual lack of color.  
“Eliza,” she called. The selkie came running from the supply room.  
“What is it?”  
Ange pointed at the heart monitor. “Oh no,” Eliza breathed.  
No one dared ask what that meant.  
They sat around for what felt like days but was probably more like hours as Alex showed no signs of improvement. At some point, Ange went and called Washington to update him.  
Maria was there with everyone else when Alex woke up. His eyelids fluttered open. “Guys?”  
“Alex.” Ange looked like she was going to cry.  
“What - what happened?”  
A snort. “You got shot.”  
“Heh. Oops?”  
Maria didn’t let herself hope.  
“Don’t apologize, dumbass.”  
“Okay, whatever you say. By the way…”  
“Yeah?”  
“Love you guys.” Alex closed his eyes again.  
The heart monitor let out a long, unbroken beep. Flatline.  
“NO!” Ange screamed, breaking down.  
Maria let the tears stream down her face as she mourned for her teammate and friend. Around the bed, there wasn’t a single person who wasn’t crying. Even Herc, normally the most stoic out of all of them, had tears running down his face.  
She didn’t let herself make any noise, scared of what her voice would do when her emotions were running so high. Even with the power suppressors… powers fed off emotion, and it was likely that her voice would break through the shielding when her emotions were running so high.  
Silently, she excused herself from the room. She walked up the stairs, trembling, and slammed the door to her floor. Once she was sure no one else could hear, she let everything out.  
The walls shook from the force of her scream.  
It subsided into sobs after several minutes, the sound going for much longer than a normal person could hold, even a supernatural.  
When she was sure she could contain herself, she took out her phone and dialed a number.  
Washington picked up immediately. “Hello?”  
Maria swallowed thickly. “Alex is dead.”  
“No,” he whispered.  
“It’s-” a sob- “it’s true.”  
Washington cursed in a language she barely knew. “Put me on speaker,” he commanded.  
“Wait up, I need to go back to the others first.”  
She ran back to the medical center, where everyone was still sitting. They had turned into statues - unmoving, emotionless statues.  
Maria pressed the speaker button. “You’re on speaker, sir.”  
“Can everyone hear me?”  
Mumbled assent.  
“Okay. Good news, Alex can be saved.” At this, Maria swore the depressing atmosphere relented a little.  
“Bad news, it’s going to take a lot of effort on your part.”  
“We’re willing to do whatever it takes, sir,” Laf assured him.  
“Good. First things first, keep his body in cryo.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Okay. Next - and this is the hard part - next, find Aaron Burr.”  
“Who?”  
“Aaron Burr. He’s a necromancer.”  
Ange raised an eyebrow. “I thought that was a legend.”  
Washington laughed humorlessly. “Don’t you know by now? The legends are true.”  
“Okay, so we need to find a necromancer. Any particular reason we need this specific necromancer?”  
“Yes. He’s a soulreader.”  
That explained it. “A soulreader,” Maria repeated, incredulous.  
“Uh-huh. Normal necromancers can’t raise the supernatural dead.”  
“Okay. How hard is it going to be?”  
“Very. He’s one of the most reclusive people I know, and he doesn’t ever make a fair deal. The best you can hope for is that he doesn’t walk away with, say, an agreement that you’ll do anything he tells you to.”  
“Yikes.”  
“Uh-huh. Now, last I heard, he was on the continent, but that’s the only lead I can give you. I’ll ask around, see if anyone knows anything, but prepare to spend months if not years chasing him.”  
Ange nodded again. “Thanks for telling us, sir. We’ll be ready.”  
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He ended the call.  
Laf blew out a breath. “Alright. First order of business, cryo. Second is to contact the Faerie rulers and tell them to take the werewolves. Third, Jefferson needs to go negotiate a peace treaty, yes?” Jefferson nodded. “Yes. The rest of us… we're going to hunt Aaron Burr down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah. Sorry?  
> On a more positive note, there will be a sequel - I'm about halfway through right now. This does mean I'll be on a temporary hiatus for a few weeks just so I can write without worrying about updating and stuff. When I'm done with some of my projects, I'll post something. Promise.  
> Please also check out my other work that's also the start of a series, [Number One](/works/26312215).   
> Thank you for going on this journey with me, and see you next time.


End file.
